Urban Vagabond: Reload

“HAHAHAHA—!”

The Fifth Tiger couldn’t even remember the last time he’d laughed this sincerely.

Martial artists who acted confident in front of him weren’t rare.

But in reality, they were always just idiots hiding their fear while bluffing, or idiots who looked at appearances and underestimated him.

But the wolf in goggles sitting across from him right now was different. He had his fur standing on end and his teeth bared as he studied him closely.

Like he might actually lunge and tear him apart if he let his guard down.

The Fifth Tiger spoke in a voice still tinged with laughter.

“Sure, it’ll draw a crowd. With skills like that and star power, it wouldn’t be strange if spectators swarmed in like clouds.”

When he rolled up his sleeve, a roaring red tiger tattoo was revealed on his forearm.

Showing the Blood Tiger meant he was serious about what he was saying.

“But... why?”

A fundamental doubt rose up. Separate from curiosity about the other man or business calculations, suspicion lifted its head.

Because swordsmen with strong pride hated turning their sword into something for people to gawk at.

Is there some other scheme?

That was what the Fifth Tiger’s eyes were asking. Kim Muhyuk casually shrugged and answered.

“Because I really like new experiences.”

Competing as a fighter instead of sitting in the stands would be far more advantageous for finding Phantom Dream.

But I couldn’t say that, so I wrapped it up as a young martial artist’s competitive itch.

The Fifth Tiger, who’d been looking at Kim Muhyuk with a dubious expression, spoke as if testing him.

“You’d better not take the underground arena lightly. If you join for fun and get your arms and legs chopped off, nobody compensates you.”

“Then I won’t have to compensate anyone for the arms and legs I chop off, either.”

At that confidence-soaked retort, the Fifth Tiger burst out laughing again and shook his head.

“You’re really hopeless. Fine. I’ll register you as an underground arena fighter right away, using my authority.”

“I’ve got one condition.”

“Why are you setting conditions? Didn’t you come here to ask a favor?”

The Fifth Tiger grumbled in disbelief, but Kim Muhyuk didn’t care and stated his condition.

“Let me fight the swordsmen in the arena. I’m not interested in weird circus acts.”

I planned to make Phantom Dream come looking for me.

Because the highest chance was that one of the swordsmen here was holding Phantom Dream.

But the Fifth Tiger’s expression turned cold, like he couldn’t accept it.

“You only want fights you like? Do you think you’re entering some sparring tournament?”

The underground arena had all kinds of rules.

One-versus-many, dogfights where you swallow Qi-Scattering Poison and brawl, unleashing beasts inside a cage—or going further and even setting up fights against anomalies.

There were no limits on poison or hidden weapons, and they’d do anything if it got the spectators riled up.

So Kim Muhyuk’s condition—only fighting swordsmen—was, unlike what he’d promised, far from something that would draw a crowd.

“I think you misunderstood what I meant.”

“I think you misunderstood what I meant.”

Of course, Kim Muhyuk knew that.

What I wanted from the start wasn’t a fair one-on-one match.

It would only take longer, and if Phantom Dream’s owner got scared and refused to come out, that would be a problem.

“Whether it’s a hundred or a thousand, I don’t care—let me fight all the swordsmen here at once. You can decide the other rules however you want.”

“...!”

“...!”

The Fifth Tiger’s mouth, momentarily blocked by shock, soon twitched—then curled upward.

A fight where an outsider swordsman faced every swordsman in the underground arena?

All sorts of images formed in his head.

They could cram dozens into a cage and make them fight, or run it as a winner-stays-on gauntlet where the victor kept fighting.

“Hidden weapons and poison, drugs allowed, even rules with installed mechanisms—those are fine too?”

“Aerial battles or underwater battles are okay too.”

At Kim Muhyuk’s answer, a satisfied smile spread across the Fifth Tiger’s lips.

Once he judged it was a card that could absolutely sell, he stopped hesitating and accepted the offer without another thought.

The Fifth Tiger grinned and offered Kim Muhyuk a handshake.

“I’ll prepare a special banquet for the wolf.”

Kim Muhyuk flicked his palm aside with a sideways tap and provoked him.

“If it’s worse than I expect, I might tear you apart instead.”

“Ha-ha! Then I really need to prepare this properly!”

The negotiation was settled.

Right there, the Fifth Tiger made a call and had three permits issued and brought up.

A moment later, the martial artist they’d seen at the casino entrance brought the permits.

The card—black background with a red tiger—was a VIP pass that allowed access to every facility in the casino: the hotel, and even the underground arena.

“When the match schedule is set, you’ll get a call. Until then, enjoy Elysium as much as you want.”

Once Kim Muhyuk accepted the card and stood up, Shin Kangheon and Kim Bokja—tense the whole time—stood as well.

They turned to leave, and as they did, the Fifth Tiger’s voice came from behind them.

“Hey, wolf. That face under the goggles—are you sure it’s okay if it gets revealed during a match?”

Beneath the laughter in his voice, there was intent.

If your face gets exposed in front of everyone, can you handle it?

As expected, he’s guessed who I am.

As expected, he’s guessed who I am.

In front of the elevator, Kim Muhyuk turned back and stared straight at the Fifth Tiger. Then he tapped his goggles lightly with his fingers and said,

“Are you planning to step into the arena yourself? You’d have to go that far before you’d even have a chance at taking these off.”

“...”

The Fifth Tiger stared at him in silence, then let out a quiet chuckle.

Like he was saying he’d postpone the fun of seeing what was inside.

“Let’s have a meal together sometime.”

Kim Muhyuk neither agreed nor refused and turned away. The elevator doors opened right then, and as he stepped inside, Kim Muhyuk watched the Fifth Tiger reflected in the glass.

You’d be better off never seeing me again.

If it turned out Blood Tiger Gang was connected to Phantom Dream, the Fifth Tiger would end up facing my angriest expression.

*****

After meeting the Fifth Tiger and coming back down, the group followed the guidance of a Blood Tiger Gang martial artist and headed straight for the underground arena.

The moment they stepped inside, Shin Kangheon looked around with a stunned face.

“This is insane... it’s this big?”

Instead of the gloomy, pitch-dark space he’d expected, it was a flashy, noisy space—easily dozens of times larger than the club GREAT HEAVEN GATE had operated.

The differences were that the stench of blood was sickeningly thick, screams and cheers mixed together in the distance, and none of the people moving around acted like any of that was strange.

Kim Bokja teased Shin Kangheon as he looked around.

“You thought some rusty basement would show up? Do you know how much money they rake in at an arena like this? Why would they keep it shabby?”

“...How much?”

“At minimum, probably not less than the casino above us.”

At that, Shin Kangheon looked at Kim Muhyuk with an expression that said, That’s a lie, right?

Kim Muhyuk twirled the access card between his fingers and said,

“In an arena this big, you can’t even enter with ordinary money. Even the casino only reveals it to VIPs. That’s why the money spent in a single day is enormous.”

“If I ask why you know so much, you’re just not going to answer again, right?”

Kim Muhyuk gave him a crooked smile and, instead of answering, strode forward.

The Blood Tiger Gang martial artist only guided them to the entrance and went back, and the three of them headed into the arena.

Inside, foreigners weren’t hard to spot.

A huge white man boasting monstrous strength, a black fighter with a chilling gaze, masters who’d learned their countries’ unique martial arts.

And the tourists who came to watch them had all kinds of nationalities too.

This brings back memories.

In my past life, I’d drifted through arenas like this for a few months too.

I was desperately broke back then, and part of me wanted to prove my skills in front of people.

Because with a body that had undergone an illegal artificial lower-abdomen procedure, I couldn’t enter official sparring tournaments—so the only stage I could climb was a place like this underground arena.

Even now, when I think back... there isn’t a single good memory.

Killing, nearly getting killed, getting stabbed in the back—or stabbing first—then being shoved along by the roar of a crowd filled with madness, panting as I drove my sword into an enemy’s heart...

“Kim Muhyuk. What’s wrong with you?”

“Hey! You crazy bastard!”

When I turned my head, Kim Bokja and Shin Kangheon were looking at me with worried expressions.

“Why?”

When I asked late, Kim Bokja poked my side and said,

“Your expression just now was vicious—like you were about to drown someone.”

“Your killing intent was no joke either. I thought you’d seen an enemy.”

“...I just got lost in thought for a second.”

I shook my head and threw the stray thoughts away.

After smashing one unorthodox organization over two days, meeting a kingpin of the underworld, and then coming all the way to an underground arena, it seemed my old self had surfaced without me realizing it.

“It’s nothing. Maybe I’m just a little tired.”

“Well, if that’s all it is...”

“If you’ve got complaints, say it now—don’t throw a fit later.”

I brushed it off lightly like usual, but the atmosphere had sunk a bit before anyone noticed.

“Mr. Goggle Killer? Are you Mr. Goggle Killer?”

A man with a timid-looking face that didn’t fit the underground arena was approaching the three of us.

The way the sword at his waist dangled carelessly said he hadn’t properly learned martial arts, and he didn’t look rich either.

I was sure I’d never seen him before, but he knew the nickname “Goggle Killer” I’d picked up at The Dark Den.

I pointed at my goggles with a finger and said,

“Are you calling me?”

“Hello! I’m Park Gwangtae, a fighter manager at the arena. Starting today, I’ll be in charge of you, Mr. Goggle Killer!”

“...”

Park Gwangtae bowed deeply in greeting. But when he didn’t get a response, he glanced up cautiously and said,

“Ah... are you not him? Your appearance matches Mr. Goggle Killer exactly, and I was told you’re the guaranteed draw the boss personally signed...”

Fifth Tiger, you bastard.

I swallowed the curse rising in my throat. I didn’t like the nickname, but the man in front of me hadn’t done anything wrong.

“...Looks like I’m the one. Goggle Killer.”

Beside me, I could feel Shin Kangheon and Kim Bokja trying to hold back their laughter.

“Oh, thank goodness. Since it’s your first day, I’ll personally guide you around everywhere!”

The three of us followed Park Gwangtae and looked around the underground arena.

The underground arena was divided into multiple areas, and you could go down a total of five basement levels.

Park Gwangtae explained that the bigger matches happened the deeper you went.

“You’re currently on Basement Level 1. This is the section where the softest matches in our arena are held.”

WAAAAAAAH!

Following the crowd’s roar, all three of our gazes shifted too.

Inside a cage, two men covered in blood were tangled together, fighting like beasts.

Even though one had collapsed unconscious, the match didn’t stop. Ruthless punches and kicks poured down.

KILL HIM! KILL HIM! KILL HIM!

KILL HIM! KILL HIM! KILL HIM!

KILL HIM! KILL HIM! KILL HIM!

Amid the blood-soaked roar, Park Gwangtae’s polite explanation continued.

“This is the barehand pit. It’s the least brutal among our matches, and the death rate is on the low side too. They scream for killing like that, but the actual death rate isn’t even half.”

Hearing that, Kim Bokja scanned the crowd with a cynical expression.

“So there are this many rich murder-for-hire freaks in the world.”

On the other hand, Shin Kangheon stayed silent. With an outsider here, he had to play the role of a taciturn blade artist.

But his eyes were burning with anger at the way they treated humans as less than fighting roosters.

Before that anger could spill into an incident, I asked Park Gwangtae in a low voice,

“There are hardly any people dragged here by force, right? I heard there are plenty who jump in because they can’t handle their debts, or criminals who change identities to escape a bounty.”

At that, Park Gwangtae widened his eyes as if impressed and asked,

“You know a lot. Have you been here before?”

I didn’t answer. I walked past Park Gwangtae instead.

WAAAAAAAH!

KILL HIM! KILL HIM! KILL HIM!

Spectators soaked in the primitive, nerve-ending thrill of violence screamed, spat curses, and howled.

The madness of those who’d lost money, and those who’d won it.

The madness of martial artists pushed into killing by that madness.

Or the ecstasy-drunk killing intent of villains addicted to murder itself.

As I swept the arena with eyes sunk deep, my gaze stopped—like it had been nailed in place.

“...Why?”

Eyes that hadn’t wavered even under the Fifth Tiger’s killing intent shook as if caught in a typhoon.

Because I’d found a familiar face where I’d been looking.

Even with more than half his face hidden behind a mask, I was sure.

After my parents died, I’d imagined tearing that face apart thousands—no, tens of thousands—of times.

Talbaek Sword Gu Hyeonwoo!

That man over there was the swordsman who’d murdered my parents with Phantom Dream.